Steele Driving
by KSteinart
Summary: Laura and Steele have a long drive ahead as they return the RV to LA after delivering the Gallen children to Pheonix


**Steele Driving**

By K. Steinart

This is an additional scene for 'Blood is Thicker Than Steele'.

DISCLAIMER: This "Remington Steele" story is not-for-profit and is purely for entertainment purposes. I do not own the characters and am in no way affiliated with "Remington Steele," it's creators, producers or distributors.

With Walter Gallen and his children safely reunited in Phoenix, Laura and Steele are left to drive the RV camper back from Phoenix to LosAngeles alone. Steele is driving the camper down a very long desert road; Laura is reclining in the passenger seat, her feet on the dash. After several hours on the road they have exhausted talk about the case, the weather, and the scenery.

"A-airplane." Laura called out.

"Don't you mean AN airplane?" Steele replied.

"No, airplane begins with A."

"Very good Laura, I see that college degree wasn't for nothing."

"No, the alphabet game, you know, to pass the time?"

Remington gave her a blank stare.

"Didn't you ever play it as a kid on family trips?"

The blank stare turned to an annoyed frown.

"Apparently not." Laura sat up. "The occupants of the car go through the alphabet naming things that start with each letter. A-Airplane."

Steele glanced out the window where she was pointing. "All I see is a vapor trail."

"But an airplane must be making it."

"If you insist."

"Now it is your turn, you name something that starts with B."

"I thought we left the kids back in Phoenix."

"Your turn, B." Laura prompted.

"B-boredom."

"No, it has to be something you can see, and it must be outside the car."

"This is a recreational vehicle."

"This is worse than playing with Angel. Just find a B outside would you?"

Steele pointed to a yellow smear on the windshield. "B-bug."

"It's not a bug anymore, that would be Y-yuck."

"It's as good as your invisible airplane."

"Okay, okay. My turn. Hmm, C-cactus."

"D- dirt." Steele fired back.

"Very good, now you've got the idea."

"This is supposed to be fun?"

"Hush, I'm thinking... E.. where's an E?" Remington drove several miles while Laura scanned the roadside in vain. Except for R-rock and road, there was nothing to name.

"I win, you can't find an E," he declared triumphantly.

"No, it stays my turn until I DO find something."

"Just how long do you get?"

"Until we arrive home or I find something."

"Oh lord." Remington shook his head in disbelief. "In the mean time, why don't you tell me about your friends in Four West?"

"Four East. Our dorm at Stanford was four east," Laura reminds him.

"Right. So what mischief did you get up to there?" Steele asked trying to get her mind off of the childish game.

"Usual stuff really, campus protests, Frat parties, that kind of thing."

"Were you all in, oh what are they called... a sorority?"

"No. We formed our own group. Shunned those society girls at the sororities."

"You led the fight against traditional social trends?"

"Barb was our leader."

"Not you?" Remington looked surprised.

"I was more of a free spirit back then, not into leadership roles."

"Not driven to be in control? Call all the shots?" Remington glanced at her an raised a singe eyebrow.

"That came later, much later," Laura said wistfully. "Back then I was into causes and guys... with occasional studying of course."

"Of course. I didn't know they taught private investigating at Stanford."

"Actually, I was there on a Math scholarship. I also took Sociology, Political Science, Chemistry... that sort of thing."

"So you met your friends in these classes?"

"We lived on the same dorm floor. Barb and Sharon were roommates. I shared a room with Tracy. Linda had the room across the hall."

A pained expression crossed Steele's face as Barb the child psychiatrist's favorite phrase "I hear you" echoed in his head. "Barb, I met. Who are the others?"

"Sharon's a stock broker in SanFrancisco. Tracy's a neurosurgeon up in Seattle, and Linda is a TV executive in LosAngeles."

"I see. Independent career women like yourself eh?"

"Hardly, all of them are... well... were married. Linda is divorced. Sharon too, or maybe only separated, but they each have one or two kids."

"And you don't."

"Not that I'm aware of," Laura said testily. "How about you?" There was a long silence. "Can't remember? Or are you still counting?"

"Neither," Remington finally answered. "I'm very careful along that score, ounce of prevention and all that." They drove several miles in silence.

"How about some coffee?" Laura offered.

Remington shook his head. "Do we have any iced tea left?" Laura went to the back. She returned with the beverages, setting his tea in the drink holder on the dash.

"Want any?" Remington took the cup and had a few sips then returned it to the holder.

"Tea?"

"No, children."

"I don't know." Laura gazed out the side window. "I would have said 'defiantly not' a few years ago."

"Really?" Both Steeles eyebrows rose this time.

"Remember, back then I was wild and carefree. I didn't want to be tied down. I wanted to pursue my own career, my own interests."

"And now?"

"Now I'm not sure. I guess I might some day," Laura said thoughtfully. "But if you ever tell my mother or Francis I'll clobber you!" She shook a warning finger at him. "How about you?" she asked after several miles of desert had slipped by.

"How about me what?"

"Do you ever want kids?"

"Laura be serious."

"I am. You have a knack with them you know."

"Please," he said in a disgusted tone.

"You do. You handled Angel well."

"That was well?"

"Kids are hard to deal with."

"That's an understatement."

"You were very gentle and caring with little Joey, you know that Mafia boss, Joseph Barber's grand son?"

"Just because I sang to him once."

"And changed his diapers as I recall." Laura sipped her coffee.

"Well I got a lot of experience changing nappies as a child, put to work caring for younger kids in a lot of foster homes."

"At least you have some experience. I was never around young children."

"You never babysat? I thought that's what all young girls do."

"Nope, never once. The Johanssen girls did, a lot. Francis too, but never me. I watched pets, but never children." They drove on, finishing their drinks. "I really didn't take this job to see how you function with children."

"So you said at Barb's."

"I took it to see how I function."

"Don't you get enough practice with your sister's kids?"

"I only interact with them by mail, telephone, or on an occasional visit around the holidays. Maybe I'll get more of a chance when they move out here next week."

"Your sister is moving back to LA?"

"Yes, didn't I tell you?"

"No. Is your mother coming too?"

"Thank god no! I'm sure I would have mentioned that. She wants me to be the perfect housewife, like Francis. Even if I did have children, I don't think I would want to be a full time stay at home mother."

"There are other options now."

"I know, but my mother and Francis don't find them acceptable."

"It shouldn't matter what they want. It's your life, you're a grown woman."

"I know."

"You always do what you want any way."

"That's not fair, I don't ALWAYS do what I want."

"No? Like when?" Steele passed a slow moving pick-up truck.

"E-empty," Laura replied, avoiding the question.

"What?"

"My letter. That truck was empty."

"You can't see empty, not allowed."

"Fine, E- eight"

"Eight what?"

"There was an eight on the license plate."

"See, we're playing this stupid game because you wanted to. And you're avoiding my question because you can't think of one time you didn't do what you wanted."

"I didn't do what I wanted at Los Amantes Lookout in the Auburn. I didn't do what I wanted after we stole those Pitkins, or the night after my house blew up."

"What was it you wanted to do then?"

Laura looked at him with a crooked smile. "Why I thought you would be the one person who would know."

"I thought you just weren't doing what I wanted." Remington glanced over at her. "This rig is equipped with a bed," he said. "I could pull over--"

"Sorry Charlie."

"That is definitely not my name."

"What is it then?"

"Well I know it's not Charlie. I hate that name. I've never used it."

"Why?"

"I don't really know. I've always hated it since I was small. I think it has to do with a foster father who went by that name. Didn't care for him at all. But, maybe I could get used to it if you like." He nodded toward the bed and waggled his eyebrows. "Keep driving," Laura said. "We still have a long way to go."

Remington sighed. "That we do Miss Holt, that we do."


End file.
